CLANDESTINE : Spencer Reid

47

I turn on the radio and I drive. The car heats up quickly and I'm wearing my cardigan, and somehow I still feel cold. Reid hasn't said anything. I don't know that I want him too. I don't know what I want at all.

I shouldn't be driving, ever.

The windshield is fogging at the bottom. My vision is obscured. It's blurry. I'm exhausted. There is no connection between me and the road. All my thoughts are on Caro.

She's fucking right. Stéphane did come to me just now instead of her. I never check in on him in May. She changed her last name for me. Caro never wanted to leave Québec, and all these years I had assumed she'd chosen our brothers over Maman, but she didn't. She chose me. Everything she has done for me, and I can't even give her her own fucking wedding.

Then, I start to cry. My shoulders shake, but I bite my lip to keep the tears silent. I keep crying. A small whimper escapes as I try to contain it. I feel Reid's eyes on me.

"Pull over," he whispers.

I shake my head, "we're not going to get home until close to midnight if I don't-"

"Pull over, Cole," he repeats. "Please."

I nod my head. The blinker is so loud that it flicks on. Once we are finally on the side of the road, the car jolted to a stop atop some gravel, I park the car. I turn to look at him.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I look at him, and shake my head, "no."

He reaches over closer to me and turns the car keys. Reid pulls them out of the ignition, bringing them over to his side of the car. I wipe a tear out of my eye, hopefully the last of them. They've mostly dried on my face.

"Sorry, I should be asking if you're okay," I manage. "You already weren't having a good night and then I left you alone to go yell at my sister and-"

"You took six steps away from me. I wasn't alone," he manages.

I bite my tongue, closing my eyes, "she's just right. Sorry. Caro's right. I do make it about me all the time. It's her wedding, and maybe she is kind of the worst but she's my little sister."

Reid looks at me. He unbuckles his seat belt and opens up his car door. He stands out there for a minute. I dab at my under eyes. Tomorrow I'll make sure my mascara is waterproof. It's not smeared that much at least, but I don't want to be more of a mess then.

The driver's side door opens. Reid stands there, holding out a hand. I unbuckle myself and take it. He closes the door behind me. The air is somehow less cold, even though it's only later in the evening. Still, I lean closer to Reid. I rest my forehead on his chest. His body is so warm, perfectly warm. I close my eyes, taking in one breath before I pull back.

"Sorry," I manage. I feel like myself again. "I just needed to calm down. I was being mean to spite her. I haven't accepted a spot at Malmö. Honestly, I don't think I'm going to agree to go. It was immature to try to be so cruel."

Reid moves so he's standing next to me. Our backs press against the car door. He's still holding my hand. He's the closest he's ever been. I can't even imagine him getting closer.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks. "What happened in May?"

All I do is take in a deep breath. Over the years, I've travelled far. Australia, England, France, everywhere I could to get away. To create space. And I don't think I can let him in all the way. I can let him in just a bit closer though. Some of this space can be occupied by him too. Not all of it, but close enough.

"When I was fifteen, we lived in Québec," I tell him. "I told you we left because Maman was negligent. And she was, but that's not why we left. Dad never wanted kids, so we didn't have a choice in the move up north. I was... well, Stéphane..."